


Bitter Breaks

by seekingjets



Series: Bad Business [9]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Humanformers, M/M, Mild Blood, Not Beta Read, PTSD, Unintentional Self Harm, cause im a coward, cybertron-earth au, or as much as megs can do, references of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingjets/pseuds/seekingjets
Summary: Starscream's bad day is about to get a whole lot worse.___aka: Skyfire, you're not supposed to be here.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream
Series: Bad Business [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/991020
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	Bitter Breaks

The far wall erupts in motion and noise as he hurls the nearest object into the unsuspecting surface.

Metal groans, papers flash and scuttle away at the torrent of movement. Starscream lifts the second closest thing and the jet cog-now-paperweight joins its stapler brother in becoming no more than a cannonball in the fury of his latest tantrum. 

“Piece of shit!” He sneers, fists scrambling for anything else to throw and finding so few things of decent weight to make the violent impact he so desires. Schematics and notes, measuring tools and mugs whose hollow bellies have been stained in coffee long forgotten, all go hurling towards the floor in a long sweep of Starscream’s arms. Unprotected, the protractor bites back and broken debris from the latest failure gives an unwelcome song of scorched steel and echoes of Megatron’s disappointment in the metal room. Once workshop, now prison of Starscream’s own frustrations. 

He’s heaving for air by the time the spilled pencils and washer coins stop spinning across the floor. The silence taking hold like a great cold fist reaching past his reassembled ribs to squeeze his lungs, remind him of his spiraling failures. 

“Why can’t I make this work!?” His voice strains against a parched and tired throat, teeth tightly clenched and nails digging against the lip of the metal desk. The spill of nausea rising from somewhere, usually ignored, takes him out at the weakest link and sends Starscream forward. Brow pressing against wrinkled papers and fragments of broken steel like splinters snapping at his flesh. 

The test should have been the highlight of his year - the chance to shove all the unimpressed glances of Shockwave back into that bastard’s arrogant face! His chance to prove his purpose as more than a hopeless braggart, using words they think he doesn’t understand! 

His chance to stand amongst his peers and scream _Look. Look what I’ve accomplished!_ Where they couldn’t twist and maim his creation, couldn’t take that victory from him like so many things which have been snatched and unravelled from his broken hands. Megatron was awaiting results most impatiently and Starscream would once again have to return to his grand tower - look his employer in the eye and explain his shortcomings. 

How many years has he been given to supply Megatron with a functioning prototype? An agreement struck, a contract signed, and Starscream selling his soul to a man in a granite suit with a fist as dense and rough. He never forgot, was never able to forget the only reason Megatron agreed to hiring him - to take on the mess of his family’s drowning empire - was Starscream’s promise. 

Fragments of memories half formed in his younger mind. Lying through his teeth that he knew _how_ his father’s most ambitious weapon was begun. Never finished, never safe enough after the incident and oh how quickly money filled hands were retracted after news of a pilot’s death spread through the many webs and open veins of their competitors. 

The beginning of the end for the Seeker legacy. A cursed venture.

Perhaps his futile attempts were equally cursed. A sickness in his blood which made such accomplishments sour and weep until attempts drew poisonous and acidic. Rotting him from the inside out just as his parents had endured in those final years. 

Starscream shakes his head, letting his body once more find the chair as he remained curled onto the desk’s surface. Clearing his thoughts away from smiles that turned cold or hands which once cradled, became boney and cruel. Slapping his away. Now was not the time to wallow. He was better than such pitiful action - just tired after days trying to solve this puzzle. Discover _what_ went wrong so he didn’t have to beg before his employer once more.

Useless and wrong. 

Something not worth Megatron’s attention, or time, or affection...

The door opens behind him, the gentle sway of well-oiled hinges and a familiar chime of entry as a presence makes itself known. Soft shoes on the cold floor, the following closing of the door until it clicks with almost unfamiliar patience. 

That’s enough reason for Starscream to stand quickly upright, head spinning as his stomach clenches on nothing, throat stung with static and sand as he grimaces to greet the unexpected visitor.

“I’m worki--” He begins the venomous scowl, ready to eviscerate the daring fool who thought to cross into his territory, a sacred and untouchable place by even Starscream’s brothers. 

A kind face greets him, swatting away his curling lash with only the softness of cheeks and eyes that disappear in a smile. A most familiar face of warm, tawny skin and obsessively blonde hair which peeks black at the crown. Impressive shoulders in a perpetual hunch to seem less grand than he is, standing tall that his shadow spills across the floor and stops just short of Starscream’s own. 

“You.” It’s hardly accusatory, just swollen like Starscream’s tongue in his mouth, looking up at his guest who only smiles the warmth of the sun down at him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I can’t check up on you?” Skyfire answers, voice peaceful but as ever edged in a ribbon of amusement. 

Starscream bares teeth as his response.

“You know you can’t.” He looks past Skyfire at the exit, heart threatening to rattle out of his chest. Soundproof or not he couldn’t have this conversation here - if anyone walked in! “How did…no. Doesn’t matter. Get out.” 

Skyfire doesn’t move, doesn’t rush from the door like some intern shattered and weeping at Starscream’s tone. Instead he does the impossible and takes a few steps forward, confident in his gentle way. Moving soft as he observes the intense machinations of Starscream’s workshop. From the walls heavy with the connective tissue of design to the half dissected fifth of a jet engine crammed best it can to one side. The room, impressive size as it was for _thinking_ and contained experiments, was overwhelmed with Starscream’s ever-frantic ideas. Forever designing, creating, failing. 

“You’re doing it again.” Skyfire’s sigh reads both tender and disappointed, something Starscream doesn’t need right now with his nerves shot and the mere sight of the man sending his head spinning through a thousand reasons why he _can’t_ be here. 

“And you promised you’d stop showing up like this.” He snarls in response, quick to pull papers from a hand, large and curious and once so warm against Starscream’s skin. 

His face is just the same, cheekbones soft and smiling with lips pressed together when they stare one another down. Skyfire wears a turtleneck that Starscream has stolen more than once - liked stretching it out stuffing his legs and arms inside and cocooning himself in the man’s smell. It was a safe place, his clothes. Oversized even for Skyfire - never interested in having things tailored for his impressive height. When they first met Skyfire was almost reedy, too tall and comical to look at when the sleeves of his shirt would stop mid wrist and the rest of him would just carry on forever. Like he could reach across the world with little effort.

They both changed soon after, living off boxed meals and sodium heavy snacks until Starscream would whine for a vegetable, laying on the floor of their apartment at midnight. And Skyfire wouldn’t hesitate to jog out into the night - find the only grocery store open for miles and awkwardly present him steamable bag vegetables when they didn’t even have a microwave to heat them in.

Starscream had a microwave of course, on campus, in his dorm. The one his parents paid the University to supply him with, one meant for professors with luxuries no student should have access too. Wasn’t higher learning about suffering? It had a stovetop too, but Starscream didn’t like going there. Didn’t like the fact that his parents had the key and they could just barge in any time they wanted. 

Skyfire’s apartment was more his home than anywhere at that time. The mess was theirs, the kitchen table groaning under the weight of their books, their projects, their scavenged debris from the lab’s refuse pile. Starscream’s family owns more than seven houses, not one worth under 15 million - but this shoebox was where he learned what _home_ was supposed to be. 

He missed it.

Once Starscream would trade all the silver and gold of his current life just to return to that space. Where his cheek always found Skyfire’s heartbeat when they shared the cramped bed. Safe. Unreachable by all the horrible things waiting for him.

Not anymore.

“When was the last time you ate?” 

“God why do you _care?!_ ” Starscream erupts, no longer able to face that gentle expression, that sickening concern. He doesn’t have a place for it anymore, doesn’t know what to _do_ with it. 

“Star _light_ ,” 

“No.” If Starscream could bring himself to ever hurt Skyfire more than he already has - he might strike him. It would be difficult, he’s tall, but he could probably leave a mark slapping him across the face. Breaking that pet-name across the man’s teeth. “Don’t you ever, ever call me that again.” 

Dark brows turn, eyes fall low and he knows he’s too harsh. Always so harsh with Skyfire, always ready to fight and claw back this piece of himself from the man’s grasp. 

But Skyfire could be stabbed through the heart and he would still ask his attacker if they hurt their hand plunging the knife in.

“You get nosebleeds when you do things like this.” He warns, settling on a desk’s edge not so far from Starscream. He almost fears Skyfire is going to reach out and try to touch him but thankfully those big goofy hands stay piled in Skyfire’s own lap. Mannered and still. “Then you get sick and can’t work for days - only get angry about that. Have you had water at all? What about rest - no don’t answer that.” He dares to laugh, to fucking _chuckle_ at him like his self destruction is endearing. “I know you, I know you’re about to fall apart.” 

He is. He has been for awhile.

Living distraction to distraction. Snatching up what greedy little pieces of the world he can. Hoarding his accomplishments like a scrawny dragon, half dead in their mountain dwelling. 

Starscream has lived this way for years. He learned after his parent’s death that it truly wasn’t enough to just survive them. To outlast their disgust of him. No. He was still alive and pointless. Useless. Worthless. Every moment alive he could feel his bones like steel rods dragging him down. Making it more difficult each day to get out of bed, to move, to exist in this world that looked at him and laughed at all the places he wore gaping holes. Parts of him torn out and left bleeding, only spite and desperation to staunch the wounds. 

“You don’t visit me anymore.” Skyfire’s voice causes him to realize he’s closed his eyes to the world. Opening them is agonizing because Skyfire is still there. Still watching him with a face between adoration and worry and all Starscream wants to do is step into the space made by his legs. Crawl into him, maybe ever hide inside him forever.

But he can’t.

“I said goodbye. You’re the one who won’t stop showing up like this.” 

Skyfire nods, slow and sad, with that same brittle smile he wore the second to last time Starscream tried to say goodbye. Tell him they couldn’t keep doing this, that his life would be ruined if he tried to follow Skyfire. This man stood in their shoebox apartment smiling, walls crowding him in, as Starscream told him he would lose everything if he stayed with Skyfire - and that he wasn’t enough. That his smile wasn’t worth giving up the luxuries of his family name. And if he loved him, if Skyfire truly _loved_ Starscream, he would understand. He would stop chasing him.

Skyfire’s only answer was: “Never.”

“I worry about you.” Skyfire spoke up. “I wonder - are you ok? Are you safe? Is someone looking after you? Since I...can’t.” 

“I’m fine.” Starscream answers too quickly, not even thinking _am I fine?_ He knows the truth, but Skyfire has no right asking, because he couldn’t do anything about it if he said _no so come back to me_. That was impossible. “I have everything I need.” 

“Right.” Skyfire was always so animated a person, throwing his size around as though he weren’t practically a titan amongst mortals.But now he is still, so still. It makes Starscream think of a body - frozen and stiff - unmoving and heavy in a blanket of snow. 

Starscream’s stomach turns at the memory.

“Is he treating you well?” 

That causes his gaze to snap upwards, horrified at the question and greeted with those eyes of humble warmth. The ones he thought were blue when they first met, the spark of distant tools igniting the scene as Starscream was small and over-eager. Introduced to this giant noodle of a man who turned to look at him and smiled.

“Megatron.” Skyfire clarifies, thumbs twisting in his lap, an anxious motion. He was always so bad at poker, couldn’t lie to save his own life. “Did you forget?” 

“No.” 

God.

He had.

He’d looked into Skyfire’s eyes and forgotten about Megatron. Forgotten about his steel and scarred hands. Forgotten about the brush of a coarse jawline against his cheek. The sound of his voice, the way eyes watch Starscream with something more than interest. Like he could see beyond a shriveled prince clinging to the edges of his shadow to survive. 

He’d forgotten the times Megatron stood before him, spoke words which flooded Starscream’s ego. Made his heart race, his body tremble with a renewed energy. The way that man could hold his gaze, feed him purpose by the sound of his voice or the vibration of his heart under Starscream’s hand when they lay together. Their own haven of silver and gold, of glass and steel. Of 9 digit bank accounts, triple bolt security locks, and silk sheets that now only smell of Megatron’s cologne no matter how many washes they go through.

A place that was just theirs. A home at Megatron’s side.

It makes him want to scream more than the work he can’t complete, more than this man who won’t stop finding him. Starscream just wants to feel something break in his hands - and his first thought is wouldn’t it be nice if he could reach into his chest and shatter his own heart. Make it _stop_ feeling this way.

But he knows there’s nothing there. Only hollow pieces and unswept fragments remain and he would give anything to finally be rid of the debris that still clings to this sickly little hope that it’s going to be ok. 

Skyfire said Megatron’s name. Starscream wants to retch but there’s nothing in his stomach. Only acid and hatred for the sound of it. Those two things should never meet and his hands shake in panic.

“You can love him.” Skyfire presses on and forces Starscream to take a step back. “It’s alright, I want you to be happy - that’s all I ever…” 

“Please shut up.” His voice breaks, hands flying to his face to dig nails into his hairline. The pain will stop him from crying, he wont _can’t_. Refuses to. 

His mother would say _Don’t cry darling. Don’t let anyone ever make you cry, noone is worth your tears_ all while cooing and stroking his hair. Calling him so many wonderful doting things. Making him feel like she would do anything to let him be happy.

Anything but one. 

When he looks up, Skyfire is standing before him. He’s just as tall but the world feels so massive around them both. Distorted and empty, a wasteland where only they exist - the way things used to be. Just them. Nothing else. No one could touch them until everyone did. Digging hands and nails into what they had and pulling it apart. 

Tires spinning in the snow. Glass shatters and so do Starscream’s bones.

“I love you.” Skyfire bows, the shape of these words are so familiar. Starscream once heard them everyday, multiple times. Even apart he would hear those words, their promise to each other. They would always say it, always mean it, and never stop being in love with one another. That was their promise.. 

No. That was their vow. 

“Skyfire-” 

“Shh.” Starscream is hushed and sees red for the insult. Can’t stand being interrupted but can’t make himself say so, too busy trying to keep his lungs from closing up as Skyfire smiles, did he ever stop? No. He keeps smiling and Starscream would do anything to make it end - or have it continue on forever. “I’m giving you my permission to be happy. You love him, don’t you?” 

“You’re right. I do.” Starscream bites his cheek and there’s no pain - but when he tries to hold Skyfire’s face that pain suddenly comes flooding in as he feels nothing where a soft jaw should be. “But if you were really here, you wouldn’t be saying this..” 

.

The noise Starscream makes upon waking startles even himself. It’s rabid and afraid, tearing out of him with ribs aching against the strength of it. Something catches him in the dark - the world is made of smeared shapes and dim lights - and nothing looks real. 

He’s afraid until a voice knocks into his brow. Something familiar and harsh, but not cruel. Something he’s spent nights falling asleep to like an obsessive song played just for him.

“Starscream.” Megatron speaks like an order, hands massive where they hold his wrists from flailing too much. He blinks, trying to clear his eyes of the static which he’d like to pretend weren’t tears. Something more is streaking down his face and he feels Megatron curse before cloth is pressed to his mouth and nose, a handkerchief. One he knows is comically purple with silver trim and one of the few _posh_ things Megatron enjoys. 

“F _uck_.” He calls out, finally able to see the man, a face of hard lines and heavy brow turned in concern. (Concern or annoyance, they both looked the same on this stupid mug.) Handkerchief pressed close, the blood looking black on the already dark color.

“Sit still.” Megatron warns, even though he wasn’t trying to move. His legs don’t feel real, his hands like limp fishing wire at the ends of his wrists. Primus why does his body hurt so much? “How long have you been down here?” 

“Hn.” He whines. He hates to whine but speaking is painful and forming words takes some time. Behind Megatron is his workstation, it’s a mess of papers and broken scrap. Incomplete project mocking him over the shoulder of this man who demands so much of him. Who Starscream fears he cannot satisfy. “Shut up. It’s only Wednesday.” He tries to pull his teeth back but his mouth feels tacky either in blood or tears he can’t tell. 

Starscream can only fear what it will be like, once his thoughts get in order, and he realizes he’s been found in such a state by _Megatron_ of all people. Why did it have to be him? Why does it always have to be him to see these things?!

He must have said something wrong because Megatron is cradling his skull, manipulating his exhausted body until he’s cursing wild in irritation but unable to fight back.

“Starscream it’s Sunday.” 

“Fuck off.” He swats at his chest but it’s like a fly hitting a window. Weak and futile against this strength.

“I’m calling Hook.” 

The moment Megatron begins to stand Starscream feels a scream coming on. It wells up in his chest, tears through his throat and only his teeth and tongue can stop it. Muffles it into something pathetic and _loud_ and disgusting as his useless hands scramble to claw at what fabric he can find. Twisting it under numb fingers, on the verge of panic as Megatron’s shape tries to leave him.

Starscream doesn’t remember saying anything, but Megatron is agreeing to something, promising he won’t do something - lifting him up from the floor of his workshop and Starscream buries himself into the dark red collar of his shirt. Digging hands into the wool lapel, half considering digging harder and seeing if he can hollow out a space to hide in forever. 

He catches himself begging Megatron for _something_ but the words don’t make sense, but Megatron agrees anyways. Voice a firm rumble against where their bodies meet. Where Starscream has curled into the other’s lap and made himself small.

Megatron tells him not to “say things like that” but Starscream can’t hear his own words, just feels his mouth moving and feels Megatron’s hands chasing sobs and trembling muscles from his back, urging him to calm down.

To his shame, he doesn’t calm down.

He just makes himself seem like he has after he tries to kiss Megatron and the man very firmly says “No.”.

Fine. 

He needs to sleep.

Megatron agrees.

Take him home?

Megatron will get his coat.

Megatron does more than get his coat. Starscream can hear the PA system ordering all employees to clear the pathway to the garage - makes him smile and roll eyes that feel made of cotton and needles at the courtesy for him. Primus he hates that man.

No he doesn’t.

_Fuck._

Scrubs eyes with hands and wants to fall over and sleep - but if Skyfire is there waiting for him…

He wants to cry, so he doesn’t. Instead he’s using an alcohol pad meant for cleaning to wipe the nose bleed from his face and probably looks horrifying when Megatron returns. Starscream doesn’t want to know what his hair looks like, or his face with dried blood. And who knows how his makeup smeared from _Wednesday_ , wow.

But Megatron doesn’t look angry, or upset or even distraught when he returns. Coat like a gray cape in hand then suddenly it’s a blanket falling over Starscream’s body.

“Can you walk?” 

“Yes.” 

Megatron carries him anyways, at least to the elevator to escape the sublevel labs. Lets him try to walk once they’re in the building proper and someone brings Megatron’s vehicle around - but it’s not Megatron’s it’s Shockwave’s. Evident by the high school hockey bag Megatron throws into the back seat and the beaded charm dangling from the rearview mirror. Made when the twins were in summer camp for a month and their parents were inconsolable with missing them.

It’s so insanely funny to him for no reason Starscream doesn’t know he’s laughing until Megatron’s free hand is large and heavy at the back of his neck. Trying to get him to step into the elevator of his apartment building and - wow they got there fast. 

He’s having that realization at the same time they’ve already entered the home. His clothes are undone and he’s furious because he doesn’t want to sleep bare but his bed is soft and he forgives Megatron when he presses his big stupid weight behind him. Arm heavy and securing Starscream to this world and not the one he’s fighting to not remember.

Tries to kiss Megatron again, but yet again there is an unmoving “No.” so he buries into his throat instead and tries to find the man’s pulse with his fingertips but fails. Whines over it until Megatron does it for him and doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Don’t be here when I wake up.” Starscream requests, voice raw and it’s physically painful to try and sleep. He’s scared and mad about it. “I know you’ll call Hook or Knockout, that’s fine. Just _you_ don’t be here.” 

Megatron makes a noise, or maybe answers he can’t tell the difference right now.

“I’m not ready for you to see me like this.” 

“Does that matter right now?” A thumb strokes up his cheek, almost to his hairline where a scar is well hidden beneath the thick hair.

“To me.” Alot. So much. “You can come back, after, just not…” 

Megatron calls him a brat to shut him up and it makes Starscream smile.

“Go to sleep.” He orders and it’s an order Starscream can follow.

\---

The phone rings three times before someone answers. Their voice is aged and accented, a little goofy if you’ve never heard it before but Starscream has the shape of it committed to memory. Just as much as his parent’s, as his brothers and as Megatron’s.

“Hello?” 

“Jetfire?” 

Starscream prepares for the worst, for the old man to start yelling or cursing him out. To threaten to hobble out of his chair and find him, _give him a beating_ for daring to call. It makes him smile, how stupid. He missed this cantankerous old voice. Missed the echo of its exaggerated tales of the war. The way this old pilot would drag on and on to his delight (and his mother’s dismay) of rattling planes and quick thinking soldiers. How _in my day these confangled contraptions wouldn't last fifteen minutes in a real dogfight_ while Starscream’s father would fake insult and a battle of engineer vs pilot would fill the air.

He expects Jetfire to hang up at least - but Starscream was already on his second day of bed rest via Knockout. IV freshly removed from his arm, phone to hand, and nothing to do until Megatron returns. If he was going to be screamed at, he might as well be comfortable doing it.

“Didn’t think you still had my number lad.” (He’d memorized it long ago.) Jetfire’s quiet. It’s been years hasn’t it? He sounds so much older. Tired. Starscream wonders if he sounds the same way. “Why are you calling? You in trouble?” 

“No.” _Yes._ Always. Hands shake around the phone. “I wanted to ask you something.” 

“Hn.” He can imagine the old pilot nodding. Hair stark white and face heavy with wrinkles and old scars from sunburn. Something Starscream would point out when the old man would call him too skinny and Jetfire would scrunch up his face and say _at least I still have my charm._

“I wondered if-” 

“He’d be happy to see you.” Jetfire cuts him off and Starscream feels his body go limp with the breath he didn’t know he was clutching. “But come see me first, his nurses don’t like strangers and I have to bring him some things anyhow, if you don’t mind an old hack like me joining you.” 

“That’d be-” 

He hears his front door open. The weight of Megatron’s steps shifting, like he’s trying to be quiet, but a man who was a mountain can hardly _sneak_. Starscream would find it endearing if it doesn’t shoot his heart into his throat and he panics.

“I’ll call you this upcoming weekend to arrange it. I’m sorry I have to go.” 

“Starscream?” Jetfire speaks up, confused by the abrupt end. Starscream needs to hang up, Megatron is coming. He can feel the steps drawing closer. “He misses you. I can tell.” 

His phone screen shows only emails missed and angry messages from Scrapper when Megatron enters the room. Heavy gaze sweeping the scene and looking at Starscream with a touch of annoyance.

“You should be resting.” 

“Boring.” He waves him off and Megatron chooses not to engage in the battle, muttering something about Soundwave sending soup (yikes??) and Starscream lying, saying that would actually be _amazing_.

He watches him turn to leave, feeling a sense of terror at the retreating form, and he speaks up. A noise pathetic and small that it was impossible for Megatron not to hear it.

“I’m sorry.” 

He’s said the words before, but not so easily and not without a fight - so it’s _almost_ insulting the way Megatron’s brows shot up in surprise.

“What?” 

“About the cannon.” He admits, failure churning in his bruised belly. “I still can’t get it to work in combination with the jet and you’ve been waiting--” 

“You almost killed yourself over **that**?” Megatron’s voice is dark, edged with fury and the swell of it sends Starscream on edge. 

“I hardly say I was killing myself.” He snipes back, now very sensitive and trying not to scramble into defense mode.

The sound of Skyfire’s voice shaping Megatron’s name feels like a needle pushing under his ribcage.

“Starscream.” Megatron doesn’t approach, doesn’t move from his tense stance in the doorway. His eyes are heated, so angry so quickly and that temper is something Starscream could usually match with his own. But he’s so tired, he so tired of yelling. “If you ever treat yourself so carelessly over something so petty I will personally remove you from each and every project and have you sitting in a bare office to wallow in your reckless actions.” 

“Petty?!” He jerks forward, anger suddenly not so difficult to summon. He almost drops his phone and swallows a wince at the ache in his skull. “You call this petty?! This is the only reason you keep me around and I failed! I fucking failed and if I don’t get this right you’ll---” 

They both realize what he thinks will happen if he doesn’t get this right. It’s something he never put to words, just a terrified emotion. Something lurking in corners, peeking out from under the bed they share, taunting him. 

Starscream tries to retreat, pull himself together, but the obvious is in the air. A shameful curtain drawn back and Megatron can see too much.

“You stupid boy.” Megatron’s sigh is deafening because it is not angry. Not irate or annoyed or even cruel. It’s sad, primus he didn’t know Megatron could sound _forlorn_. 

“Don’t.” 

“If you think for a moment _this_ ,” He doesn’t have to explain what _this_ is. _This_ is Megatron’s clothes in Starscream’s closet. _This_ is dinners shared and knuckles brushing against cheeks. _This_ is waking up next to Megatron and pretending to be asleep after he’s curled in closer under the morning light. “Is all dependant on your success in recreating something your father failed to do, then I have not made myself clear.” 

Starscream wishes he’d come closer - but also the thought of Megatron touching him right now scared him more than anything. He might actually break - shatter into a thousand pieces never to be recovered. He wonders if Megatron knows this, or can sympathize because he doesn’t move.

“Quit tomorrow.” He says abruptly and Starscream winced. “Choose to never go into that building again - never lift a finger for the rest of your life and I will still have a place for you.” 

“On your arm? Something pretty to show off?” He says, sour and reaching for a way to make this less earth shattering. The idea of giving nothing to Megatron and that be enough? Impossible. 

“At my side.” Megatron corrects, pauses. “But what you choose to do there is something you have to decide for yourself.” 

Starscream buries his face into the palm of his hand. It might look like he’s trying to hide a smile, but it’s a grimace. Something painful and rough against recent wounds. There wasn’t enough spite or desperation to shield him from Megatron’s earnesty.

“I want to complete his work.” He says instead of being flustered and stupid. No. Not now. Not with Skyfire’s face echoing across his mind. “I will accomplish what he failed to do.” Let his father twist and curse in his grave - let him suffer the feeling of having what he cared for most taken away from him. His pride.

“I believe you.” Megatron agrees with such certainty, what a bastard. Primus help him, Starscream loves this man. “And that’s why I let you keep trying.” 

They get awkward fast and it’s funny that it doesn’t disappoint him. It feels, right. To watch Megatron’s mouth flatten, look away like he said too much or not enough. So rare to see such a powerful and pointed man struggle with indecision, feels so good to be the one capable of smoothing those ruffled edges with a sigh and a smile.

“Do you know how to reheat soup?” He asks and finds such delight in the scowl across his lover’s face.

“Stay in bed.” That Starscream will obey. Watching Megatron leave and finding it doesn’t scare him as much, his words repeating in the space left behind. Starscream taking the chance to quickly delete his call history and sends a message to Skywarp - asking him to find _something_ to demand a trip back to Vos. Soon. Something that won’t involve Megatron’s interest.

He deletes the responding messages too and falls back to the pillows, hearing Megatron clunk around in the kitchen. A hilarious image that shouldn’t leave him so flustered and possessive over what happens next.

Megatron is holding a place for him by his side…

It reminds Starscream of a marriage proposal he’d gotten once.

One, that he had said yes to.

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends, it's been awhile. 
> 
> so winter depression is a real thing and something I struggle with rather intensely so this is a little fic, for a treat as we begin what will become the meatier story of Bad Business.
> 
> thank you for your patience, spring cannot come sooner.


End file.
